JAMIE STREICHER’S smile captivates me. Even after his mouth is back to the normal cruel slash, the warm glint remains in his eyes.

I strum the chords, pluck the strings, and sing that song I wrote months ago about getting older and changing. The one Zach laughed at.

My voice is gritty from sleep. I haven’t warmed up, and there’s a rasp to the notes, but I like how it sounds. I keep hearing their laughter, seeing the look on Zach’s face, so baffled and embarrassed but entertained, but I shove those thoughts away.

You’re tough as nails, deep down. I know it. That’s what Jamie said. He also called me songbird.

His eyes are on me the entire time, warm and steady, and he pulls me back to the present. To this moment, sitting in his living room in the middle of the night while I play my guitar for the first time in months. It isn’t as hard as I thought—in fact, it feels natural, like no time has passed. Through the windows, the city lights twinkle from across the water, and the moon is bright in the night sky.

My shoulders ease as I move into the chorus again, and something unfurls inside me. This song is fun. It feels like Fleetwood Mac with a modern Taylor Swift spin, and then one more element that’s all me. It has a quick tempo and a hooky melody. It’s why I couldn’t get the tune out of my head once it showed up. I had to do something with it, had to weave it into a song.

I pause after the second verse, narrowing my eyes at Jamie as I try to remember the next part. He raises an eyebrow at me, intrigued.

The next verse rushes back at me, and I launch into it. The corner of Jamie’s mouth tugs up into a lazy grin.

God, he’s fucking gorgeous. My eyes drop to his torso, so distracting with all the ridges and deep lines of muscle. The way he’s spreading his legs like that, in his black boxers?

I yank my gaze up, and his eyes flash with interest. Oh god. He saw me looking at his crotch.

The song is about becoming a new person, and my mind wanders back to Zach as I sing the last third, leaning into the music. I thought Zach and I would be together forever. At the airport, I waited for my flight in the terminal, feeling so fucking crushed. The person I trusted most had shipped me away, out of sight, and I felt like I’d never feel that closeness that I had with Zach with anyone again.

Now I wonder if we ever had that closeness to begin with, or if it was all in my head.

Jamie’s still watching and listening. Something glitters in my chest, just a pinch of it, fine but sparkling. Zach wasn’t the one for me, but the way Jamie’s making me feel right now, so safe and special and supported… maybe I’ll find that feeling again.

Not with Jamie, of course. Even if he did date, he’d go for someone in his league. We’ve always been on two different levels, even back in high school. I’m not naive. I know better.

But that doesn’t mean I won’t find it with someone. Maybe. One day.

I finish the song, and pride moves through my chest. My mouth twists as I hide a smile. It’s embarrassing, being proud of myself for something so dumb. Something’s flowing through my blood, a burst of excitement from playing something I love. Passion and challenge and pride all mixed together. It intoxicates me. Or maybe that’s from being this close to Jamie while he’s almost naked.

Jamie leans forward, eyes on me. “You wrote that?” I nod. My heart thumps in my chest.

He studies me before he growls and shakes his head, almost to himself. “That guy was never good enough for you. Not in high school and not now. I hope you fucking see that.”

His words melt into me. If what Zach did put a crack in my heart, Jamie’s words smooth something cool over it to fill it in. Like aloe over a

sunburn. It means something, what he said.

“Wait.” My eyebrows snap together, and I tilt my head, replaying it. “I didn’t tell you Zach and I went to high school together.”

Jamie’s eyes widen a fraction, and my lips part in surprise. Is it possible that he remembers me from high school? No. No way.

A guilty look passes over his face, and my jaw drops. “Jamie.” My tone is accusing, and I wear a curious smile.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. His expression is sheepish, and it’s adorable. “You probably don’t remember, but we went to the same high school.”

A laugh bursts out of me. Don’t remember him? How could anyone

not?

“I’m a couple years older, and I missed a lot of school for hockey,” he goes on, and his embarrassed expression sobers me immediately.

Oh. He’s serious. He actually thinks I don’t remember him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before,” he goes on, and his knee bobs up and down in a distracting way. “You took me by surprise when I saw you the first time, and then I just…” He trails off, and his eyes meet mine. “I didn’t want to make it weird.”

I could go on pretending, but why? It’s exhausting. And the fact that he remembers me is making my heart do Daisy’s excited tippy-taps against the front wall of my chest.

“I remember you,” I admit. “Of course I remember you.” His expression stills. “You do?”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Jamie. Come on. You were on your way to the NHL. You were one of the popular kids. All the girls swooned over you. You were gorgeous, even back then—”

His eyebrow goes up, and there’s that look again. Teasing, focused, and determined. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

Sparks dance up my throat, and I swallow. I’m blushing. “Uh,” I say stupidly.

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You said even back then. That means you thought I was gorgeous then, and you think I’m gorgeous now.”

My pulse beats in my ears and I can’t look away. His gaze pins me like a butterfly under glass. My lips part and close as I scramble for what to say.

Busted. I’m so busted, and now that he clearly knows I’ve had the most massive crush on him forever, it’s going to be awkward.

He leans forward with a confident, teasing smirk that makes my heart pound harder.

“I thought you were gorgeous, too,” he murmurs, looking at me in a way that makes me feel like I can’t breathe. “Even back then.”

It can’t be true. I study his eyes, searching for the lie, but come up with nothing. No one’s ever called me gorgeous except my mom, and that’s different.

Something weird is happening inside my head; I’m rapidly reconsidering everything I thought to be true.

“Oh.” The word falls from my lips, and the corner of his mouth tugs up. “Okay.” I sound dazed.

Our eyes are locked, and there’s a zing of tension between us. My stomach rolls, and for a moment, I want Jamie to be that guy, the one who makes me forget Zach ever existed.

His gaze drops to my lips, and focused hunger flares in his eyes. My nipples pinch, because I’ve never been looked at like that, and definitely not by a guy who looks like Jamie.

Predatory focus rises in his eyes, and between my legs, I clench. It feels like we’re about to kiss.

A tiny part of me is freaking out, waving her arms around and snapping her fingers to get my attention. This is crazy, and it isn’t real. The energy in the air is heated, tense, and dangerous, and I don’t want anything to do with it. I don’t even want to imagine that Jamie likes me.

He’ll devastate me. After Zach, I’m full of cracks. I can’t have feelings for Jamie, because if it ends like it did with Zach—which it will—I’ll smash.

I shoot to my feet, holding my guitar like a shield. “We should go to bed.”

He watches me with that look that makes my insides squirm. “Good night, Pippa.”

Leaving him in the living room, sprawled on the couch like that, I run up the stairs, back to my room, where I set my guitar in its case and climb back into bed.

My heart races while I stare out the window at the dark sky, thinking about how Jamie watched me while I played.